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The Bang Bang Theories

Thumps In the Night

That last post left us hanging on to all’s well that ends well on Tuesday night. I’ve now officially become a soap opera writer, complete with a cliff hanger! And also I’m the main character so I am now living out my life’s dream of BEING a soap opera actress.  That’s no jokie right there, that is my official dream job. Great hair, perfect make-up, hotsy lovahs, intrigue and evil twins that you take down. And then when bad things happen you can wake up and it may have all just been a dream.

Except real life isn’t quite like that part. Actually, my real life isn’t anything like those parts, except for sometimes I have nice hair.  And you know, the hotsy lovah (I feel pressured to say that).

If you recall from Part 1, I had big plans for getting a snoot full to kick off Thanksgiving Weekend, and it was the prime motivator for me to step up my cleaning on Tuesday.

By the time I’d worked a jam-packed day on Wednesday, came home and started to prep for meal planning by sautéing and chopping and blending and mashing. That led to more cleaning and washing and wiping and rinsing. By the time the “party” hour rolled around, I was bushed and gave up the dream of being part of the drunken foray at the local watering hole and my bed was calling my name.

Because I’m fiddyone now. It’s a love-hate relationship I’m now having with myself. I seek the potential fun of going out, but I want to do it in my pajamas and from the comfort of my bed.

So my big plans became a nice shower, bed and the endless loop of Planes, Trains & Automobiles on the telly.

At around 12:30 a.m. or thereabouts, MM turned the sound down on the telly and poked me and said,  “Did you hear that?”

TBB, having done all this the night before replied, “Yep. Cats.”

About ten minutes or so later, MM paused the telly again and inquired, “Do you hear THAT?? Look out your window, do you see anything?” As the sound was now coming from the garage side of the house, nearest to me.

I turned my head and looked out my bedroom window, which provides a direct line of sight to the shed:

First I noticed a light reflecting off the bedroom window and knew something was up. Then I saw a BAD GUY standing right there, with the shed door opened up.

I moved like the greased-lightening version of me – which as Joanne has seen once before when we were at an airport and the danger-everyone-evacuate message came on and I was out the door and down the steps before Joanne knew what was happening – this me-version can move, baby – I jumped up from bed, grabbed my phone and whisper-said, “Um, no joke! We ARE being robbed!! There’s a bad guy right outside the window!!”

MM grabbed the gun, I grabbed the phone and called 911 for the second time in as many days.

Bad Guys, take note: We will not hesitate to put the ‘Bang Bang’ in your ass should you decide to come in uninvited.

Now, I know how 911 actually works, at least I think I do, based on all the Forensic Files I’ve studied. But it FEELS like they are wasting a whole lotta time asking a bajillion questions. I went and waited by the front door, to be on the lookout in case the bad guy ran around to the front of the house and to be on the lookout for the good guys arrival.

The 911 caller was asking me if the bad guy was still there, and I couldn’t answer definitively. I couldn’t see him, but he could have been in the dark shadows or in the shed by that time.

An SUV pulled up and I thought maybe it was a get-away car, but then the back door opened and they released the kraken, in the form of a GIANT German Shepard who took off like hells fire down the side yard and rounded the back. The cop was right behind him.

Then we heard A LOT of shouting and growling and rawring and shouts to “GET DOWN or the dog will chew you up!”

I was hoping for some dog-chewing, quite frankly.

Apparently the bad guy was “out of it,” either on drugs or drunk, and didn’t have the forethought to run away, and instead was hiding between the shed and the house.

He was no match for the kraken.

More cops came and swarmed Chez Bang Bang shortly thereafter. And in fact it was several of the same faces from the night before and I actually looked at one, raised a fist in the air and proclaimed that the crazy cat lady has been vindicated!

A few things we found out:

1)There had just been an attempted break-in on a street directly across from our house on the other side of the ravine. The bad guy threw something through a window and tried to get in, but the homeowner thwarted that attempt.

The theory is, it’s the same bad guy, who then jumped down the ravine – a move that would absolutely put me in traction for the rest of my life, because it’s steep as fuck and also includes a lot of pointy and ouchy concrete slabs – and arrived in our backyard.

2) While the bad guy was being handcuffed and taken down the yard, I couldn’t stop myself from yelling out at him, “YOU’RE A BAD PERSON!” I know, those are some strong words right there, but maybe just maybe they will be the push he needs to turn his life around. Because you know, shame.

3) Apparently the bad guy had some choice feelings he expressed, too, along the lines of he hopes all of our families die – the police, us, everyone.

4) My Mister & I are not against a little police roughing-up and I felt this guy should have at the very least been pushed down in the street to skin a knee or something. Apparently the police are “against” this type of behavior in today’s day & age. But I miss the good old days and the stories I used to hear while married to my expoliceman husband, which while not necessarily on this side of legal, may have provided a few ass whoppings that their mama’s didn’t.

5) I know that’s an unpopular opinion with the liberals, of which I mostly am, and I’m not saying he should be killed for his actions, but sometimes a good ass kickin’ is just the right thing to do when you catch a bad guy in the act of being the bad guy.  Of course, I grew up in an age when you could spank a kid. I’m PRO spankings. Under many circumstances. Ahem.

6) One of the same policeman was also the one who we agreed about the three cats. He cracked wise and said something along the lines of only seeing three cats again.

7) The police informed we live in a very liberal city and the bad guy will probably never get any time from his crime. So Baretta is wrong, because you can do the crime and not have to do the time.

8) I may get called to testify, which would be totally exciting for me. I’d have to practice not blurting out things like, “You’re a BAD PERSON!”

9) The cops seemed to think this incident was unrelated to the Tuesday incident, but apparently the bad guy mumbled something about being in the neighborhood the night before. Now, I have no idea why he would offer that up, but that’s what we were told. I told the cops I didn’t think they were unrelated at all, because that’s some strong coincidence.

10) Probably the most disappointed person in this whole story was the Bad Guy, because he broke into Chez Bang Bang’s shed, which only houses a lot of boxes filled with disappointment. In fact, our shed is so full of crap no one wants that we don’t even have a lock on it. Why encourage a bad guy to bust the door, which will end up just costing me money.  I mean, if he were looking for normal garden-type tools he could use as weapons to break windows and ladders to climb into said windows, he was sorely disappointed. We have boxes of shit to sell on Ebay, old cables and DJ equipment that probably doesn’t work, and black widow spiders.

No one won in this story, except for me, a little, because I got that second chance to show the police that #1/ noises are sometimes not the cats and #2/ I DO, in fact, keep a tidy house (sometimes) that doesn’t smell like crazy cat lady lives here.

During the light of morning, my three cats and I took a stroll around to the back of the house to check for any other damage. Toby decided to leave a surprise for any other potential bad guys who mill around between the house and the shed. 

Because that’s where that goes, Creepers.

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